


Sugarcoated

by sonata_de_morte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonata_de_morte/pseuds/sonata_de_morte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight years since Harry last saw Malfoy, and it's safe to say that nothing is the same. After all, who would have expected Harry to be running a wildly successful bakery and Malfoy to have somehow morphed into a pleasant human being?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugarcoated

When Harry saw Malfoy again for the first time in eight years, it was through fogged up glasses. He had just set a steaming loaf of thick bread swirled with cinnamon and studded with raisins and dates on a cutting board, a long serrated knife held up by magic poised to slice through the warm treat.

Green eyes locked with gray and both widened simultaneously. Harry swallowed hard, wondering how long after school school-boy rivalries tended to last. "Welcome to Lily's," he said, wiping his hands on his apron. "What can I get you?"

Malfoy blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, then blinked again. "Potter?" he asked finally.

"Erm…yes?" Harry's lips quirked in a small grin. After all, who else could he be? His hair was still the messy mop that it had been at school, and even though his fringe covered most of it, the famous scar was still rather visible. Besides, everyone knew that he owned this bakery. It had been in all the papers for nearly a year after he'd opened it just down the street from Fortescue's three years ago.

"You work in a bakery?" Malfoy was still gaping.

"I  _own_ a bakery," Harry corrected. "Have you been under a rock?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and affected his trademark sneer. "Forgive me for not keeping up with the everyday life of the Saviour of the bloody World. Some of us do have better things to do."

Harry sighed. "No, I meant…it's just that…the papers wouldn't leave me alone for years after I opened this place. I thought everyone in the sodding wizarding world knew where I worked by now."

"Well. I've been out of the country, so I didn't know. And now that I do, I might reconsider my decision to shop here. I wouldn't be here at all if Blaise hadn't sworn on Merlin's name that the best biscuits in town come from here. Of course, he neglected to mention that they were  _your_ biscuits."

Harry grinned at that. Blaise Zabini was one of the most frequent customers of Lily's. He had taken one bite of Harry's tarts and declared a truce effective immediately. Harry had found that he quite liked the Slytherin. He had a wicked sense of humor and a glare that sent reporters scurrying on their way.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. They really are good biscuits though." He gestured to the glass case where they were displayed.

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me?" Malfoy asked with narrowed eyes.

"Right. I opened a bakery three years ago so that one day you would walk in and buy poisoned biscuits. That sounds like me. Did you know that I make the poison fresh everyday?"

In spite of himself, Malfoy smiled. "I suppose that did sound a bit ridiculous. Very well. Give me a half dozen of the biscuits and two of those scones with the chocolate in them."

Harry saluted the other man and went to fill the order.

* * *

When Harry saw Malfoy for the second time he wasn't all that surprised. The blond had just Apparated into Blaise Zabini's flat and was shocked to find his former rival sitting on the couch with a butterbeer looking for all the world like he did this often.

"Draco!" Blaise bellowed as he came out of the kitchen. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Malfoy frowned. "Thought I'd come round for a drink. What's  _he_ doing here?"

"Oh, Harry's here all the time," Blaise replied. "He brings dessert so I can't really turn him away."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe I'll stop if that's all I'm wanted for."

Blaise laughed and turned back to his longtime friend. "Sit down, Draco. I'll get you a drink."

Malfoy looked like he was going to refuse, so Harry got to his feet. "I should head out, Blaise," he said. "I'm having dinner with Ron and Hermione, and if I'm late they'll kill me."

The look in Blaise's dark eyes let Harry know that he wasn't fooled, but he just nodded. "Alright. Give them my hellos, and tell Ginny to owl me back."

"No dice, Blaise," Harry returned with a grin. "The last time I got between you and Ginny I almost lost a fucking eye. Deal with that on your own." He nodded to Malfoy and then Disapparated.

Blaise turned disapproving eyes on Draco. "You aren't still holding a grudge are you?" he demanded. "I thought you were getting over all that when you were in Italy."

"I was," Draco snapped. "That doesn't make it any less shocking to see Harry bleeding Potter in your sitting room."

The darker man shrugged. "We're friends. Have been for a couple of years now. He's not bad, Draco.  _He_ isn't holding grudges."

* * *

When Harry saw Malfoy for the third time, he didn't actually see him. He'd been in the back of his shop making the delicate dough that would become croissants. His assistant, a bubbly girl called Charlotte was manning the counter and he heard her gasp as the bell over the door jingled to announce a customer.

"Why, you're Draco Malfoy," she said.

There was a pause, and Harry swore that if the blonde git was rude to the girl he would hex him into next week.

Apparently he needn't have worried.

"I am," Malfoy replied slowly. "Is the proprietor in, by any chance?"

"You mean Harry? Yes, he's here, but he's in the back with the dough. You don't interrupt Harry when he's with the dough."

Harry smiled at Charlotte's words. It was true. He tended to get rather testy when he was disturbed.

"I see," Malfoy was saying, his voice uncertain. "Could you give him this, then? I would have sent it by owl, but I doubted that he would appreciate having a large bird in his bakery."

Charlotte laughed. "You catch on quicker than Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. I'll see that Harry gets this. Did you want to order something?"

Another pause indicated Malfoy's hesitation, then, "What the hell? I'd like a dozen of the shortbread and two of the chocolate scones."

"You've good taste, Mr. Malfoy," Charlotte said as she got his order ready and rang him up. "Have a nice day."

When the bell above the front door jingled again and the front of the shop fell silent, Harry raised his voice. "You're worth much more than I pay you, Charlotte."

The girl giggled. "Remember that when I ask you for a raise. Mr. Malfoy's letter is in the lock box when you're done with the dough."

Harry forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, not letting himself think about what Malfoy might have written to him until he had five pans of perfectly shaped croissants baking in the oven. He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands before sliding them through his hair.

Charlotte smiled knowingly at him as he fetched the roll of parchment from the box where she had placed it. "You and Mr. Malfoy were at school together, yeah?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "We were. Not that we were friends or anything. He hated me at school."

"Did you hate him back?"

"More or less."

"And now?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know him now." He unfurled the parchment and leaned on the counter to read it.

_Potter,_

_Blaise has informed me that I was terribly rude to you the other week at his flat. I must confess that it was not my intention. I suppose I am just used to being rude to you and having you be rude back, but Blaise says that you're different than you were at Hogwarts. So, I apologize for the rudeness._

_It seems that I missed quite a bit while I was in Italy. As such I was wondering if you would consider having dinner with me at some point so that we can catch up. Blaise is one of the only friends that I have left in London, and if you two are friends as well, it makes little sense for us to continue to antagonize each other._

_Do not worry about replying to this letter as I fully plan to stop buy your establishment tomorrow for some of those excellent scones. (The biscuits are delicious, but they aren't my favorite.)_

_Yours,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Charlotte was looking at him curiously when he looked up from the letter. "Well?" she asked. "Anything good?"

"He wants to have dinner. And he has some issue with my biscuits."

* * *

"He WHAT?" Ron yelled once Harry had informed him and Hermione of Malfoy's letter the next day. "What the hell is he playing at?"

Harry shrugged. "I think he's serious."

"Why the hell would he be serious?" Ron demanded.

"Ron," Hermione scolded. The three of them were sitting in the Leaky Cauldron having lunch, and Ron's outbursts were attracting attention. "It's been ages since the war. There's no reason for him not to be serious."

"I still don't like it."

Harry smiled. "I'm a little wary myself, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Hermione nodded. "I think it's a good idea. It's time we all grew up." She leveled a glare in her husband's direction at that.

"Can we change the subject?" Ron asked. "Let's talk about Harry's sex life instead."

"How about we don't," Harry muttered slumping down in his seat.

"Really, Harry. You can't enjoy being alone," Hermione chimed in. "I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who would love to be on your arm."

Harry glared at her. "No, they would want to be on the arm of The Boy Who Lived, or the owner of Lily's. They don't want just me." He ran his hands through his hair and gave his friends a wan smile. "Don't worry about me, guys. I'm doing alright on my own." He checked his watch and jumped up. "I need to go so Charlotte can have her break. See you later!"

Hermione and Ron exchanged exasperated looks.

* * *

Draco walked into Lily's and had to bite his lip to keep from making a sarcastic comment. Potter was sweeping behind the counter dancing to some ridiculous song that was playing on the speakers overhead.

He smirked when Potter's eyes met his and widened. That seemed to happen a lot. "Hello," Draco offered. "Please. Don't let me interrupt."

"Sod off," Harry mumbled half-heartedly.

"No thank you. You received my letter, I trust?"

Harry nodded. "I did. I'll admit I was surprised when I read it. I didn't know you'd grown up so much."

"You're not the only one who has changed since the Dark Lord's defeat, Potter."

"I guess I'm not. So you wanted to have dinner?"

"Yes. When is a good time for you?"

Harry leaned against the counter. "Well that depends on where you want to meet. If it's around here, then anytime really."

"I was thinking I would have you over to my flat," Malfoy replied, averting his eyes.

Now it was Harry's turn to be stunned. "Really?"

"Why not?" He handed Harry a card with his address written on it in neat script.

"You're asking me round to your flat. Where you live. For dinner." Harry frowned, looking for clarification.

"I'm not asking you on a date, Potter. I just prefer my own cooking."

"Er…alright. Is Friday alright for you, then?"

Malfoy thought it over and then nodded. "Yes, Friday is fine. Nine o'clock?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. Oh, hey, what's your issue with my biscuits?"

Draco smiled. "I don't have an issue with them."

"But they aren't your favorite."

"No."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Going to explain that one?"

"No. Can I get two cranberry scones?"

"Fine." Harry got him his food and took his money. "So I'll see you on Friday."

"You will," Draco agreed with another smile. "Thank you," he said, lifting his bag.

Harry stared after him as he left, watching him walk off down the street.

* * *

When Friday rolled around, Harry was a mess of nerves.  _Stop it,_ he scolded himself.  _There is no reason for you to be nervous about this. It's_ Malfoy.  _It's a dinner with Malfoy that is not a date._

It didn't help that his dreams had turned traitorous, filling his head with images of Draco in various forms of undress when he was sleeping.

_Maybe Ron and Hermione are on to something,_ he thought.  _Clearly I need to get laid and have done if I'm thinking about Malfoy like this. We aren't even friends._

He was pulling a gray sweater over his head when heard the pop that indicated someone was fire calling him. He turned, and saw that Blaise's head was sat in his fireplace. He quirked a grin at his friend. "Trying to see me starkers, Zabini?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Hardly. Draco's just been over here obsessing about what kind of wine you might like to drink with dinner, so I thought I'd see how you were doing."

Harry shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It's just dinner."

"Yes, but it's dinner with  _Draco._ He takes his dinners very seriously."

"I don't need to be wearing dress robes do I?"

Blaise shook his head. "No, you look fine. Just…hear him out, yeah? And give him what he gives you."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "I should go if I'm going to be on time."

"Do that. Draco likes punctuality."

Harry rolled his eyes and bid Blaise farewell. He shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed the tin of biscuits he had made just for this occasion.

* * *

Draco answered the door looking harried. He paused to give Potter a small smile and usher him into the flat, before dashing back into the kitchen. He swore in what sounded like Italian, and Harry looked around the sitting room.

At first glance it looked nothing like a place that Draco Malfoy would live in. For one thing, it had a warm, homey atmosphere that didn't mesh with the image of Draco that Harry had in his head. The furniture was soft and overstuffed, rather than posh and expensive looking (though it was by no means cheap). Books littered most of the surfaces and filled an entire floor to ceiling bookcase. The whole set up made Harry realize just how little he actually knew about the other man.

"Wine, Potter?" Draco called from the kitchen.

Harry smiled, remembering what Blaise had said earlier. "Sure," he called back. "Do you need some help? I do know my way around a kitchen."

Draco emerged holding two glasses filled halfway with some kind of white wine. "Everything's nearly ready now," he said, handing one to Harry. "It'll just be a minute more."

"Okay. You've got a great place here."

"I'm fond of it. I've only been back in England for a few months, so I was lucky to find it."

"Blaise said you were in Italy?"

Draco nodded. "Florence. Lovely city."

"Why'd you go there?" Harry asked taking a sip of his wine and making an appreciative noise.

"It was easier," the blonde admitted. "My mother was depressed, my father was in Azkaban, and leaving the country seemed like a good way to get away from it all."

"I can't believe I didn't know you'd left. Or were back," Harry marveled. "The Daily Prophet is usually on top of those kinds of things."

"Yes well, Malfoys are adept at disappearing when the situation calls for it. I spent a year after the war being shunned and called scum wherever I went. I decided it was time to disappear."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry."

Draco met his eyes, startled. "Whatever for? It wasn't your fault that people were idiots."

"No, but…I wanted to prevent that kind of thing from happening."

"You can't save everyone, Potter," Draco said kindly. "Though you do a bloody good job of trying."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "It's a complex," he said. "Or it was."

"May I ask you something?" Draco wanted to know.

"Yeah, of course."

"Why didn't you become an Auror? I thought that was your life goal."

"It was," Harry admitted. "I went through the training for it, but it just felt wrong. I realized that I had already spent so much of my life chasing evil instead of living, and I didn't want to do that anymore. I loafed around for a while before I discovered that I had a talent for baking without magic. I opened Lily's the next year."

Draco looked impressed. "I never would have figured you for owning a business. You never seemed like you could sit still long enough."

Harry laughed at that. "No, I most likely couldn't have back then." He shrugged. "I've gotten calmer with age, I guess."

A timer went off somewhere in the kitchen and Draco turned towards it. "Give me a moment," he said. "I'll get dinner on the table."

"What, no house elves?" Harry called after him.

The blonde gave him the finger over his shoulder.

* * *

Harry had to admit that Draco was a fabulous cook. He leaned back in his chair after consuming a sumptuous chicken pasta dish, nursing his third glass of wine. Draco was explaining how he had taken several cooking courses in Italy because he wanted to feel like he could do something that was useful.

"I wanted to contribute something," he said.

"I get that. That was part of the motivation for the bakery. The other was that I like to make people happy and baked goods do that."

"Apparently. I have never seen Blaise quite so pleasant as when he has a mouthful of something you've made."

"He is one of my most faithful customers. Speaking of," Harry pointed to the tin of biscuits. "Those are for you."

Draco arched an eyebrow and used his wand to summon the tin. "Biscuits?" he guessed.

"Yep. I tried something different, and I wanted to see what you thought."

Draco blinked, oddly touched that Harry Potter would care for his opinion. He opened the lid and looked inside. These were not the regular biscuits that Harry sold at Lily's. These were made with chocolate and glazed with a sugary coating.

"I noticed you were a fan of chocolate, so I thought you might like these better. Since the other ones 'weren't your favorite'."

The blonde lifted one of the biscuits and took a bite. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. "Mm…" he sighed. "Hazelnut and…coffee?"

Harry nodded looking pleased. "You like them?"

"I do. I much prefer them to the other kind."

"Good. I'll add them to the menu."

It was as simple as that apparently. Draco liked them, so they would go on the menu. He didn't understand this older Harry Potter. He didn't seem to care at all that they had spent the first seven years of their acquaintance at each other's throats. Was the past really just the past to Potter?

"So…I've been trying not to ask, but the curiosity is getting the better of me, and I've been told to ask you if I want to know. I apologize in advance if this is a touchy subject, but why the bloody hell is Blaise dating Ginny Weasley?"

Draco was prepared for anger at the question, or for Harry to tell him to mind his own business. He was not prepared for him to burst out laughing.

"Sorry," the baker said finally. "It's just so ridiculous even now. Ginny and I got back together after the war, but we ended up fighting about everything. She wanted things a certain way, and I was tired of just doing what everyone expected of me so I was a bit combative. It turns out one of the few things we could agree on was the fact that Blaise has a lovely arse."

Draco choked on the wine he had just sipped. " _Excuse me_?"

Harry grinned. "He does! Not that I was ever going to pursue that, mind you. Ginny's much more his type than I am."

"Are you saying that you're…"

"Gay? Yeah. Does that bother you?"

"No!" Draco said quickly. "In fact, I'm…well…we have more in common than I would have thought."

Harry's eyes widened. "Imagine that."

The two of them stared at each other for a second before Harry flushed and looked away. "Well um, I should go. I have to get up obscenely early in the morning."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Draco pointed out. "Don't you get to have a lie in?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I do a lot of baking on Saturday for the Sunday rush. Everyone wants sweets on Sunday."

"Ah."

"You should stop by if you get a chance," Harry said off handedly. "I put the best stuff out on Sunday."

"Alright then. Does it matter what time?"

"No. I'll be there all day."

Draco got up to see Harry out. "Then I'll see you on Sunday. And thank you. For the biscuits."

Harry saluted him and Disapparated.

* * *

"You WHAT?"

Harry sighed and shared a look with Charlotte. "Ron. Stop yelling."

"Sorry, mate," Ron said. "I'm just…what is the world coming to?"

"Your only sister is dating Blaise Zabini, and you're upset because I said I like the new Malfoy?"

"I've had time to get used to Zabini. I don't know Malfoy at all."

"All the more reason to get to know him," Charlotte said as she handed a bag to a customer. "He was perfectly polite when he was here the other day."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then spotted a familiar blonde head coming towards the shop. "He was," he agreed. "And I had a great time with him at dinner on Friday. He's changed a lot." He waved at Draco as he came in.

Ron turned around to look and grimaced. "He still looks like a ferret," he muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hey, Malfoy," he greeted.

"Potter. You weren't kidding about people wanting sweets today. The number of people I've seen carrying bags from here is staggering."

"I do good business on Sundays," Harry said with a shrug. He ducked down under the counter for a moment and then emerged holding a thick double chocolate muffin. "Here, I saved this for you."

Ron and Charlotte's eyebrows shot up at the same moment. Even Draco looked surprised.

"Thank you, Potter. This looks delicious."

"They're pretty popular. And you really can call me Harry if you'd like. It's not like we don't know each other."

"Fair point. Feel free to do the same."

"To call you Harry?"

Draco scowled. "Don't be moronic on purpose,  _Harry_." He bit into the muffin and bit back a moan at the flood of rich chocolate that coated his tongue. "You can however, keep making me these muffins. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house. I've decided you're my taste tester. Charlotte used to have the job, then she complained that I was making her fat."

"I get free desserts?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded.

"Sign me up."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Draco spent a lot of time at Lily's. He watched as Harry created the confections that he sold day to day. He got to know Charlotte and spent some time behind the counter of the shop when it was particularly busy. He got in the habit of bringing Harry lunch on Tuesdays when he was too busy with the dough to get it for himself.

The two of them developed a friendship that would have shocked them if they took the time to examine it. But it seemed to grow and thrive so naturally that they never did. They had dinner together at least once a week where they talked about their lives since the war and how much they enjoyed the fact that not much had stayed the same. It was a comfort to both men that they now had someone who understood them to confide in.

Draco was in his kitchen on a Saturday morning making a roast that he planned to take over to Harry's later that evening. He had noticed that Saturdays were the days when his friend was the most likely to forget to feed himself, so he tried to have something for him to eat.

He was humming under his breath as he chopped carrots and onions, thinking of the last time he had made this meal for the baker.

Harry had gone on for a good ten minutes about how tender and flavorful the meat was. "Hermione tries to make this all the time, but it doesn't come out right," he'd said. "Don't tell her I said that though."

Draco didn't see how he  _could_  tell her since he didn't spend time with any of Harry's other friends. Well, except Blaise, but he didn't really count because he had been Draco's friend first.

He didn't mind that he and Harry seemed to only spend time together. In fact it was quite nice. With his parents gone (both of them had died while he was in Italy) it was wonderful to have someone who kept him from being alone. Someone he could be himself around. Someone he-

The knife slipped from his hand with a clatter, barely missing his foot. He liked Harry. He  _liked_ Harry. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone before. At first, there had been a fierce desire in Draco to impress Harry. He wanted him to know that he was fine and that he didn't need the Boy Who Lived to try and save him. He didn't need saving.

That desire hadn't faded. Instead it had morphed into a need for Harry to see him as someone he could trust. Whenever Harry touched him, however briefly, there was a flutter of joy in Draco. He had chalked it up to finally,  _finally_  being accepted by someone whose friendship he had sought so many years ago, but apparently it was something more.

He was so screwed.

* * *

Harry wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of flour across his forehead. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was gone six in the evening. With a flick of his wand, the bread and desserts he had spent the day making went into their storage containers with a freshening charm over them.

There was a knock on the door then and Harry poked his head out of the kitchen to see Draco standing outside

He gave his friend a surprised look and went to open the door. "Hey," he said. "I thought we were meeting later."

Draco shrugged. "We were, but I was bored so I thought I'd walk to your flat with you."

If Harry thought this was strange, he concealed it well. "Come in then," he said.

Draco obeyed, taking a deep breath as he entered. "I love the way it smells in here," he remarked.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm." Draco bit his lip, glad Harry was facing away from him going about locking things up. "You smell like this place pretty often."

Harry threw a teasing smile over his shoulder. "Are you saying I smell nice, Draco?"

"Perhaps I am," the blonde murmured. He was pleased to see a blush spread across Harry's cheeks at that.

"You're strange," Harry said.

"You like me anyway."

The baker threw him a dazzling smile. "You're right. Come on, I'm done here."

Together they walked out into the darkened streets of Diagon Alley. Harry waved to some of the shop keepers that he knew who were closing for the night and shoved his hands into his pockets. "What's wrong?" he asked finally. "You seem more fidgety than usual."

"Fidgety isn't a word," Draco replied automatically.

Harry just glared at him and waited for a better answer.

Draco sighed. "Nothing's wrong. I've just been doing a lot of thinking today. I came to some startling realizations."

"Want to share?"

"I…maybe later? I'm still processing."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Five days later, Draco was done processing. He'd come to the decision that Harry was gay and single and  _he_ was gay and single, so there was no reason why he shouldn't make a move.

_No reason except that if he doesn't feel the same you might ruin one of the only friendships you have left._

Draco ordered his subconscious to shut up. He was going to do this and hope that Harry was a good enough person that he wouldn't let something like this ruin the friendship they'd built.

It would be fine.

He'd adjusted the wards in his flat so that Harry could Apparate straight in. A few minutes later, the a crack announced that he had done just that.

"Draco?" Harry called.

"Bedroom!" Draco called back. He swore fluently in Italian in his head when he realized that Harry had never been in his bedroom before.

"Huh. I've never been back here before," the brunette said as he paused in the doorway. He leaned in taking in the cream colored walls and plush carpet. "It's nice."

"Thank you. It's certainly better put together than the hovel you call your bedroom."

Harry chuckled. "I'm messy, yes, you've said. So what's up? You look like something's on your mind." Green eyes studied Draco closely.

"There is," Draco hedged.

"Okay, then. Out with it."

"I…I'm not sure I should tell you."

Harry frowned. "Draco. You can tell me anything. I thought you knew that." He stepped into the room, moving closer to his friend. "Tell me."

"I…that is I…"  _Oh for fuck's sake!_ Draco left off with the talking and took two steps into Harry's personal space. He was about an inch taller than the other man, but they were still mostly eye to eye. Screwing up courage that was  _not_ associated with Slytherins, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's.

For a few seconds all Harry could do was stand in shocked surprise. Then a noise built from his throat and his fingers were digging into Draco's hips as he pulled the blonde closer to him, his lips moving in tandem with Draco's.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Harry rested his forehead against Draco's. "What was  _that_?" he whispered.

Draco chuckled weakly. "Really fucking good?"

"Well yes. I suppose I more want to know where it came from."

"I don't know. I realized a bit ago that I…like you."

"As more than a friend?"

"Do you really have to ask stupid questions  _now_?"

"Sorry. But you have to admit that this is bizarre."

Draco sighed. "You're right. We don't have to do it again."

"No. We definitely do," Harry replied. "I just want to know  _why_ because I'm not a one off kinda guy."

Draco pulled away. "Neither am I. I suppose we should have a talk then."

"We should." Harry pulled the blonde closer to him. "But later."

Draco could live with later. He recaptured Harry's lips with his own, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and nibbling on it. He reveled in the sounds Harry was making and marveled that he was the one causing them.

Harry's hands found their way down to Draco's arse, gripping it tightly. That brought their groins together, and both men groaned at the contact.

"Mmm, Harry," Draco breathed, as he pressed himself closer to the other man.

They were kissing again before either of them had time to react. The two of them carried on in this manner for long moments before Draco placed his hands on Harry's chest and gently, but firmly, pushed him away.

The raven haired man looked dazed and thoroughly pleased as he licked his lips and blinked. "Wow."

"Quite," Draco drawled. "Perhaps we should talk now. Before this goes further."

Harry nodded and reached up to straighten his glasses. "Talk. Yes. Um…you like me?"

"I do. Even though you can't seem to stop stating the obvious to save your bloody life." The blonde fidgeted suddenly. "Do you…how do you feel about me?"

"I should think that's obvious."

Draco glared. "Enlighten me."

"Christ, Draco." Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Of course I like you. You're…" he gestured at the other man. "Let's just say you've always been a fit enough bloke, but your personality left a lot to be desired. Now…you're different. I like the new you."

"Yeah?"

"Very much. But I'm a little worried."

Draco frowned. "About what people will say?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm worried that I'll end up liking you too much. I'm fairly possessive when I want something."

"I could grow to be alright with that."

* * *

"YOU'RE WHAT?"

Harry sighed and Draco glared. "Really, Weasley. We are in public."

It was a week later, and Draco and Harry were having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and Hermione. Harry had had the brilliant idea that they should tell the other two about their relationship.

Ron was now gaping like a fish, looking from Harry to Draco with his eyes wide. Hermione hid a smile in her napkin.

"What, no outbursts from you?" Harry asked his other oldest friend.

She smiled. "No. You're an adult, Harry. If you want to date Draco, then date Draco. Of course, if he hurts you, I'll not be responsible for my actions."

Draco recoiled and Harry gripped his hand under the table. "He won't."

"I won't," the blonde echoed.

"Good." Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband. "Oh for heaven's sake, Ronald. Stop gaping, and tell Harry you're happy for him."

"Yeah, Ron," Harry said. "You were the one after me to go get laid. I think I did one better."

"B-but. He's Malfoy!"

Harry shook his head. "We've got to go," he remarked. The pair of them walked out, headed back to Lily's hand in hand.

"Weasley seems less than pleased."

Harry shrugged. "He'll come around. Ron's not good with change."

"If you say so."

"I do."


End file.
